Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The headline of one of the best Hollywood gossip stories you're likely to encounter this year reads, "Shia LaBeouf and Michael Bay Got in a Really Big Fight Over Feist." To prepare for an emotional scene in Transformers 3, LaBeouf plugged his iPad into a pair of on-set speakers and was vibing to The Reminder ballad "Brandy Alexander" when Bay abruptly shut the song off. Things got heated, "spit [was] flying," and Bay stormed off set. Whatever this incident tells us about Michael Bay (like maybe he's just really impassioned in his opinion that Let It Die was a better record), it tells us even more about where we're currently at, culturally speaking, with Feist. Even among Hollywood titans, she's divisive. She has probably, over the past couple of years, helped an infinite number of jocks and action stars get in touch with their latent emotions ("It's a little feminine," LaBeouf told the Los Angeles Times of "Brandy Alexander", "but it touches me"). But most importantly, the low croon of her honeyed, creaky-door voice has become pop culture shorthand for "the diametrical opposite of what robots blowing shit up sounds like."

How "tragically hip" a comment can you make? Michael Bay has done nothing but entertain audiences for years. Michael Bay bashing may be au courant, but it is largely an act of pretense rather than substance.

His talent as a director I would argue is quite strong, particularly as a director of action. His selection of screenplays may leave something to be desired.

Michael Bay is the Ray Harryhausen of our age.

Bashing Bay is almost as easy for some as bashing Bruckheimer, and almost as inane.

Imagining a film world without Bruckheimer is like imagining a world without Jack Warner. Neither is a world I'd want to live in.